


Low Hanging Fruit

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Business, F/M, Jupiter Ascending Fic Challenge, cleaner Jupiter, exploits with them and their now non-literal bee family, security guard Caine, space opera packed into the beauty industry basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic inspired by fuckyeahjupiterascending's prompt: </p><p>Corporate AU where Abrasax kiddies fight over mommy's industry - creator of the miracle time-defying product RegeneX - and cleaner!Jupiter somehow gets caught up in the mix. </p><p>Not everything is bad though. There's the cute security guard upstairs...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Haven’t you learned anything yet?”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

Jupiter threw up her hands and exaggeratedly gave her mom space, letting her swoop in with the “correct” polish. Within seconds the scuff that had adorned the marble statue—courtesy of a rather nasty man who, it seemed, hadn’t liked Titus’ “tone”—disappeared, the only evidence of its existence in the weary hand Aleksa drew across her brow. She straightened with an expression that could have been either a grimace of pain or a scowl at Jupiter.

 

Or both.

 

 “Don’t,” Jupiter said, forestalling the lecture. “I get it. Really. This is me, paying attention. Now gimme the mop or we’re gonna be here even longer, okay?”

 

‘Longer’ was somewhat relative. As Jupiter dragged the bucket as far from her mom’s side of the lobby as she could, she noted that the Chicago skyline was entirely dark now. It wasn’t the first time they’d stayed late for work, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. Seraphi had a… _thing_ about her clients seeing the help, and it left a lot of work to do when everyone else had left. More often than not Jupiter spent her days cleaning unused storage rooms, so abandoned they hadn’t even gathered dust _to_ clean. The monotony was made worse by their uniformity: every room was stacked floor to ceiling with the same, octagonal canisters, each bearing the label “RegeneX,” as well as an infinity symbol, Seraphi’s signature.

 

“No ‘Ms. Abrasax’ around here,” Aleksa had told Jupiter, five minutes into her first day on the job. “Not where she can hear, at least. It makes her sound old.” She sniffed. “And this industry isn’t about the aged, now is it?”

 

Jupiter remembered looking down at her mom’s spotted hands, wrinkled beyond their years from chemicals and endless scrubbing. They’d gripped the duster forcefully, almost daring Jupiter to comment. She had of course, later, non-verbally in the act of shaking a canister playfully in her mom’s face. It had been slapped away—as Jupiter half expected it would be—and she hadn’t brought it up again since. She also hadn’t touched the stuff herself.

 

“You’re only twenty-five!” Katherine had laughed once.

 

“So are you.”

 

“You’ll want it some day,” she’d continued, completely ignoring the hypocrisy. “C’mon, Jups. Imagine perfect skin into your nineties. No arthritis, muscle aches a thing of the past. And it’s free for all employees! Even—uh…”

 

“Even the cleaning crew,” Jupiter had finished, poking Katherine quick so she’d know she hadn’t taken offense. “I hear you. I mean, part of it is kinda appealing I guess… but if Mom doesn’t need it, why should I? I’m not insecure about my looks.”

 

Katherine had stared. “ _Everyone’s_ insecure,” she’d said and tottered back behind the counter, high-heels clicking.

 

Okay… so maybe Jupiter was a _little_ insecure. But only a smidge. After all, her hair always became a rat’s nest halfway through her shift, their uniforms weren’t exactly flattering (one more reason Seraphi wanted them silent and invisible—they sharply contrasted the otherwise pervasive, fashionable excellence of Abrasax Industries), and if truth be told, smelling like lemon cleaner wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world. At least it covered up the sweat.

 

Jupiter subtly sniffed her underarm and shrugged.

 

“Still here?”

 

Speaking of Katherine, the lady herself sauntered out of the boardroom, looking just a tad bit peaky. She was wearing a different dress than the Chiffon she’d sported all those years ago, but the heels were still the same:  three inch, black, strappy, her entire weight balanced on impossibly thin points. Jupiter grinned though at the wobble that had snuck into Katherine’s gait. It had been a long day all around.

 

“Yeah,” she finally answered. Jupiter followed Katherine back towards her desk. “Balem went through a whole tray of glasses today. I spent most of the afternoon getting the glass out of the carpet.” Jupiter held up her hand as evidence, tiny nicks dotting the skin.

 

Katherine grimaced in sympathy.

 

“Emails,” she shot back. “Fuck it all, Jupes. I need Mal back and I need him now.”

 

Katherine was only one rung up on the totem pole from Jupiter—making her the only person in the building willing to speak with her (not in a shout or impersonal order, at least). Her job had always been to manage the front desk, to direct clients here and there… to otherwise look pretty. Katherine—lean, blonde, and perfectly manicured—was good at looking pretty. Organization? Not so much.

 

So when Kalique had dumped an iPad and planner in her lap a week ago, the squeak that had escaped Katherine’s mouth was worth its weight in teasing material. Maledictes, Kalique’s personal assistant, had left briefly on related business, leaving poor Katherine to pick up the pieces. Only her elder brother rivaled Kalique in work ethic, so there was plenty for Katherine to wade through daily. The reams of notebook paper she hefted onto the desk attested to that.

 

Jupiter gaped. “Is all that…?”

 

“Phone numbers,” Katherine confirmed. “They’re mostly from potential clients, but there are a few wannabe business partners in there too. Ha, like Seraphi would ever split the company. You know, one guy called around lunch claiming to be _Mr._ Seraphi. Right. Like we all don’t know those kids were test-tube babies.”

 

“Quiet!” Jupiter hissed, half laughing. There was no one around to hear though. Her mom had gone to finish the bathrooms. The only soul left was the security guard off by the entrance.

 

Katherine sullenly poked the pile. “Could get rid of a ton of these if they just distributed the stuff…”

 

“You know that’s not gonna happen.”

 

Abrasax Industries wasn’t just the most profitable company this side of… well, _Earth_ , it was also unique in its business practice. No drop of RegeneX had ever entered a store. The cream had never graced a web page. Their injections had never, and would never, be packaged and shipped. Anyone who wished to purchase the miracle cure had to come to one specific spot: here. All potential clients were screened by either Seraphi or one of her three kids and anyone could be turned away for any reason, not matter how inconsequential. Jupiter had seen clients thrown out because they made the mistake of propositioning Kalique (considered nearly as beautiful as her mother) or for _not_ propositioning Titus. Balem was particularly picky, yet he must have been doing something right because he maintained the highest client pool next to his mother. Most assumed that when the time came he would take control of the industry, maintaining the current client list. It was the most effective form of business and for all the problems the siblings had, business was the one thing they could agree on.

 

That was the only effective practice though. In theory, Abrasax Industries should have died out within a month of its venture. Who wanted to go to a single location for their product any more? Who was _able_ to, especially if they lived out of state or country? The answer was anyone with the drive and the means, which catered exactly to the kind of clients Seraphi was interested in, those who were rich enough to afford RegeneX _and_ the travel to get it. Those who had the power to wade through the screening process as well as the learned humility to beg for it. RegeneX was worth it.

 

“But why?” Jupiter had asked—another day, another length of carpeting to vacuum. She’d barely been able to hear herself over the noise. “Why not just sell RegeneX everywhere and get _more_ money? Isn’t that better?”

 

“Control!” Aleksa had shouted and then switched off her own vacuum. The sudden silence was deafening. “Jupiter. These people don’t care about money—they have enough. What they want is _power_.”

 

“Power?”

 

“They alone decide who remains young, strong, and beautiful. Person by person, they are determining the elite.” Aleksa had stared hard at her daughter, her lips pulling back in disgust. “What greater power is there than that?”

 

Right. Jupiter _really_ hadn’t touched the stuff after that.

 

Even when Katherine continued to offer it.

 

“Want some?” she sighed, pulling out her jar of cream. Katherine immediately begin smoothing some over her hands, making sure to tuck the white stuff around her cuticles and in the creases of her palm. It was all preventative measures. Katherine didn’t have a wrinkle to her name yet and even if she did, there was no doubt that she’d still be gorgeous. On nights like these where they were feeling particularly truthful, Katherine admitted that she’d only gotten this gig because of her looks. Seraphi wouldn’t have anyone other than a beauty greeting her guests. Not a chance in hell.

 

Especially not when she offered her employees access to RegeneX. Determining the elite indeed. That started right in the hiring process.

 

Not that Jupiter could, or ever would, judge. She was only here because of her looks too.

 

In a manner of speaking.

 

“Nah,” Jupiter said, waving the jar away. Katherine had already been tucking it back into its drawer. “How much longer you staying?”

 

“Ah… thirty seconds?” With a grin Katherine swept the papers into another empty drawer, locking it all away, and swung her purse up over her arm. She debated only a moment before bending and pulling her heels off, tipping them over her other shoulder. Katherine padded across the tile with a sigh.

 

“Don’t let your mom keep you too long, k?”

 

“Yeah. Don’t slip on the wet patch there.”

 

“Mm hmm.”

 

Jupiter watched Katherine leave, the security guard holding the door for her solemnly. He didn’t ogle her behind or “stretch” to get a whiff of her perfume. In fact, Jupiter couldn’t remember a time she’d seen either of the interior guards checking them out, which was one hell of an unexpected boon. The one on duty now—Slinger? Swinger?—had a daughter, she knew that much, but whether there was a partner in the mix she couldn’t say. The other guy rarely left the top floors, so Jupiter only saw him infrequently. His name was…?

 

“Something or other,” she muttered, depositing more water on the floor. “Another blonde I think. Huh…”

 

Jupiter stopped, leaning heavily on her mop. She spoke to her mom, Katherine spoke to her, most spoke with Katherine just because she was hot…but who spoke to the guards? No one, so far as she could tell. They stood silently at their posts, sometimes traversing the halls, mainly looking too intimidating to approach—which was probably how Seraphi liked it. Didn’t seem fair though. Hell, Jupiter knew she’d nearly lost her mind more than once with only her mom for company. At least she got to move around while she cleaned.

 

Jupiter had just decided to approach this Slinger guy (Slinger, right? Had to be Slinger…) and strike up a conversation—maybe something awkwardly personal about whether he bothered with RegeneX or not—when a sudden crash sounded behind the main doors.

 

Slinger jumped too. His eyes caught hers with a startled expression.

 

“ _Fuck you and fuck your legalities!”_

 

“Jupiter!”

 

Aleksa came barreling down the steps, nearly tripping over the rags she had trailing behind her. She slammed into her with a thud, arms wrapping around her waist protectively. Her breath puffed hard in Jupiter’s ear.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know.” Jupiter’s mop clattered to the floor as another bang ripped through them. It sounded like a giant’s punch, or a minor explosion, or someone toppling the decorative busts that lined the outside hall…

 

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

 

Slinger had his gun out, aimed at the floor and body turned sharply towards the door. He had one hand on the handle and he spared only the briefest glace at them, jerking his head to the side. Aleksa and Jupiter immediately ran behind him, shuffling not to slip on the wet floor. Jupiter waited until she was nearly pressed against his back to speak.

 

“That sounded like Balem,” she puffed. “What the hell—”

 

The door flew open, knocking all of them off balance.

 

Balem had indeed stumbled into the lobby, followed by Titus, Kalique, and a skinny little man that Jupiter didn’t recognize. What made her gasp though was the state he was in. The long, flowing pants he wore had been torn to shreds, a swing of momentum revealing a gash down his thigh and into his knee. Balem’s black turtleneck was equally battered, grey smudges smearing the arms and the cuffs. His hair had lost its perfectly smoothed look, his jewelry was twisted or missing, and he had a wild look in his eyes that made Jupiter take three steps back. The rest of his face was covered in either blood from his head wound or what appeared to be soot. The only clean parts were messy lines down his cheeks—tear tracks.

 

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking horribly. “Don’t, don’t, don’t you dare. Touch me again, sister, and I will rip your hand from its limb!”

 

“You’re bleeding,” Kalique said curtly. She didn’t look at Balem though, but rather past him. Jupiter followed her gaze and found the statue she’d been cleaning earlier.

 

Titus said nothing at all.

 

“Sir?” Slinger still had one arm out to protect Jupiter and her mom. His other jerked between Balem and the door, as if he wasn’t sure if he were waiting for a threat or if Balem _was_ the threat.

 

“Holster your weapon, Mr. Apini,” Kalique said. “We’re fine here.”

 

“ _We’re not fine!_ ” Balem shrieked. He pointed an accusatory finger at Kalique. “This is your fault. Oh yes. You drove her to this!”

 

 “ _Drove_ her? How does one orchestrate an accident, Balem?”

 

“Accident…”

 

Balem said the word like he didn’t understand its meaning. He tasted it a minute on his lips and then smiled a slow, horrible smile. All at once his legs buckled and with a grunt Slinger dove to catch him. Balem hung limply in his arms, but he wasn’t unconscious and Jupiter felt her mom squeezing her arm hard at the sight.

 

Yeah. She got it too. Balem didn’t let anyone touch him, certainly not the staff. The one time a guard had dared to brush lint from his shoulder, Balem had thrown him bodily from the building, threatening worse if he were to ever show his face here again. Now though he almost curled into Slinger, his mouth agape and his stare focused on something none of them could see.

 

“Balem?” It took Jupiter a moment to realize that the tentative voice was her own.

 

“Ahem,”

 

They turned, finding the skinny man staring tentatively at the scene before him. He cleared his throat nervously again.

 

“Yes. Hello. Chicanery Night, the Abrasax family lawyer.” He extended his hand to no one in particular and then quickly drew it back, wiping it across his shirt. “Yes… dreadful business. If Balem will not seek medical attention then perhaps you can treat him? I assume you know basic first aid?”

 

He was staring at Aleksa. Jupiter torqued her head to stare up at her mom. She looked about as shocked as Jupiter felt, but quickly gathered her bearings. Jupiter recognized the straightening of her shoulders, the thinning of her lips.

 

“Yes. All employees are required to train.”

 

“I know,” Chicanery simpered. He gestured at Balem with a get-on-with-it gesture. Aleksa dropped to his side.

 

If the previous insanity hadn’t alerted Jupiter that something was quite wrong, this certainly did. Watching her mom press her hand to Balem’s painfully thin wrist, brushing matted hair from his face to check the cut on his forehead… it was surreal. Jupiter tore her gaze from the spectacle and looked for anyone who’d bother to meet her eye.

 

“What happened?” she asked them all.

 

“There’s much to discuss,” Chicanery said, ignoring her. He dropped into a ridiculously elaborate bow. “Kalique? If I may?”

 

“Yes… the boardroom will suffice.” Kalique’s voice sounded faint, but her steps were strong. She passed her brother curled on the floor without a backward glance.

 

Right. Figures. Jupiter shared a quick look with Slinger and found him equally baffled, his hand still resting near his gun like he expected, even wanted to use it. Fat chance of that. No doubt the four of them had already forgotten that he and Jupiter existed, firm in their belief that the help shouldn’t be privy to personal matters. Indeed, her mom was already guiding a dull-eyed Balem away and Kalique was leading the Chicanery fellow into the other room. Jupiter would just have to get the gossip from the rumor mill tomorrow. Or her mom, if she could get something out of the catatonic Balem…

 

With a last curious crane of her neck, Jupiter turned back to her supplies. She’d need to clean the mud and—God— _blood_ off the floor before they left. And was she supposed to sweep whatever had shattered in the hall? Great. Still, she’d get in early tomorrow, talk to Katherine first thing, fill her in and see if she could pull any theories out of the other workers. Maybe they’d—

 

A sharp sound caught Jupiter’s attention. She found Chicanery by the boardroom door, snapping his fingers at her.

 

“You too,” he said.

 

Jupiter blinked. “What?”

 

“Hurry up, child,” Kalique snapped and slipped inside before she could see Jupiter bristling. There wasn’t _that_ much of an age gap.

 

… the order caught up with her.

 

Jupiter looked to Slinger, blinked again, pointed at the door. “ _What?_ ”

 

He shrugged, dazed.

 

“You’re a part of this now.”

 

Jupiter jumped straight up at the voice, soft and sounding from behind her. She whirled and found Titus still staring at the statue in the middle of the lobby. She’d nearly forgotten he was there.

 

Inching closer, as if in a dream, Jupiter really _looked_ at the masterpiece situated in their hall. It was certainly impressive, an enormous marble carving that only worked with their high, arched ceiling. It was more than just a statue of course, more of a monument to one woman and the empire she’d built. Today was far from the first time she and her mom had cleaned the piece. People from all over the world spit on the carving, kicked it, struck it as if they could ever hope to topple it… almost as often as they kissed its cold hand in ecstasy or unbridled relief. Jupiter swallowed as she took in the candles they kept lit at its base, the flowers a recurring client had left two days before.

 

It wasn’t a statue at all. It was a _shrine_.

 

“Titus?”

 

He was still staring and Jupiter shivered at the reverence she saw in his face. The grief.

 

“After tonight,” he said, monotone. “There will be consequences.”

 

Jupiter felt like she couldn't breathe. “Consequences—?”

 

“You heard me. You’re a part of this now.”

 

Titus whirled and took Jupiter by the arm, leading her towards the boardroom. Billionaire Titus who’d never spared her a glance literally dragged Jupiter away from her mop and rags, carrying her ever closer to… something. What, she didn’t know. Jupiter saw Slinger as she passed. She thought she heard her mom’s voice in a far away room. Before the door closed behind her, Jupiter looked up at the statue she’d stared at for years now, the statue that had gotten her this job in the first place.

 

Jupiter locked eyes with a marble Seraphi and saw her own face staring back at her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so I'm well aware its been nearly FIVE MONTHS since I started this. I'm SO sorry. I don't know where the time went. That being said... this story still isn't high up on my priority list XD. I'm adding to it just a little at a time whenever I'm not too busy (ha) so I'm sorry I can't offer you all a decent update schedule. But I will try harder from now on! *Valiant music starts up*

_“Now what made you want to apply to Abrasax Industries, Mrs. Jones?”_

_“Ms. is fine,” Jupiter heard her mom say tightly. “My husband died some time ago.”_

_“I’m sorry to hear that.”_

_Jupiter tuned them out, rolling onto her back and tilting the book up above her head. She’d followed her mom to lots of interviews the last few weeks, though none of them had been fancy like this. There were stern looking statues lining the walls of the hall they’d passed through, marble floors that made squeaky sounds when Jupiter slid in her sneakers, everyone’s clothes looked soft and their hair stiff from gel. There was water that bubbled and tickled Jupiter’s nose, like soda._

_She tried to imagine her mom cleaning this place and couldn’t. Jupiter didn’t think the man could picture it either, because he’d been making the face Cousin Vassily made whenever Aunt Nino talked about something that bored him—sorta tired-eyed with lots of one-word answers. He also hadn’t bothered to write anything down on his notepad, not since Mom had walked through the door. The man had raised his eyebrows at her stained uniform, at her hair—at Jupiter herself—and Jupiter probably would have kicked him for it if that hadn’t gotten them booted out of the last place._

_It was stupid. The place was pretty and could probably give Mom lots of money, but it was cold. Jupiter had quickly grown sick of staring at white and had un-tucked the book from her arm._

_It was (had been) her dad’s and the dog-eared edges proved it._ A Concise Exploration of Space _, written by a woman named Diomika Tsing, PhD. Jupiter couldn’t read all the words yet, but the pictures were amazing. The dwarves of this book were a whole lot more interesting than the ones Vladie had shown her in_ Snow White _and someday, Jupiter would study them herself._

_She just had to get an education first. Mom said education was everything._

_Jupiter quietly sounded out the word ‘asteroid’ and continued to ignore the conversation above her._

_“You do realize this is highly unusual, of course.”_

_“I... yes.”_

_“You’re not quite what we’re looking to hire.”_

_Movement caught Jupiter’s eye. Her mom’s legs were crossed. Not once like she’d been taught (“It’s considered ladylike, Jupiter. It’s a choice that will make your life easier”) but rather twice, the top of her right leg hooked around her left calf. Jupiter did that when she needed to pee. Mom did it when she was mad._

_“Mom?”_

_Her eyes caught Jupiter’s. “Sit up,” she murmured in Russian and Jupiter did as she was told, propping herself up against the desk’s leg. As the silence stretched on, Jupiter returned to her book._

_‘Is There Life Besides Our Own?’ the Chapter’s heading asked. Jupiter dragged a finger along Tsing’s words:_ It would be both foolish and narcissistic to say, ‘no.’

_She wondered what ‘narcissistic’ meant._

_“—quite privileged,” the man was saying. “Extraordinary really. Can’t say that I see the resemblance myself, but Seraphi is willing to offer you the position. On one condition.”_

_“Which is?” Aleksa asked._

_“That your daughter begins working here just as soon as she’s able. I believe fourteen is the minimum age nowadays? Plenty of time for her to enjoy her youth.”_

_Jupiter didn’t hear them. She was lost in the possibility of life outside of their planet, picturing creatures with scaled skin, pointed ears, tails that showed emotion like a dog’s. She didn’t realize that there was a great deal of emotion right beside her, in her mom’s tightening legs and lips, the breath that she drew in too fast. Jupiter didn’t go to school like the other kids. Which was fine. She knew how to read and do sums and she was starting to learn to cook. Those were all important things. What did she really need school for?_

_Aleksa thought she needed school. Her degree for applied mathematics was hidden under her bed, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t well taken care of, cleaned regularly and wrapped carefully in a quilt to avoid breaking. Education was everything and she had every intention of securing that for Jupiter. Somehow._

_You needed money for school though._

_You needed a job for money._

_“She just needs to work here?” Aleksa said slowly. “Like me?” She regretted the question the moment it slipped out._

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

_“And she can quit at any time?_ We _can quit?”_

_“As a package deal, yes.” The man spread his hands. “You must understand that Seraphi is a collector of… interesting things. That’s why she has devoted her life to developing Regene-X. Who wouldn’t want just a little more time to explore the mysteries of our world? Who wouldn’t want a better quality of life to engage in that exploration?”_

_It sounded like a rehearsed speech, something the man had memorized carefully… or perhaps a message that had been drilled into him, day by day._

_He smiled an equally false smile. “Surely you can agree that your daughter is interesting? Seraphi is just that: interested.”_

_Aleksa looked to Jupiter, still absorbed in her book. “My daughter is indeed interesting, but not for your reasons,” she said and then held out her hand before the man could speak. “Yes. Tell your Seraphi I agree.”_

_“Excellent.”_

_They stood—Jupiter too—and Aleksa shook the man’s hand, afterwards wanting to dump her own in a bottle of bleach. A soon as she was able Aleksa had her arm around Jupiter, keeping her close as they passed back through the door._

_The first thing Aleksa noticed was the statue… and she firmly looked away. There was no reason to feel as if she’d sold her daughter out. She could leave this place long before Jupiter came of age. Surely._

_“You’ll start on Monday,” the man said. He tried to shield them from the clients in the lobby—or rather, shielding the clients’ eyes from them. “Seraphi has three children of her own, you know. Not much older than yours. Perhaps they’ll be… friends.”_

_Jupiter heard the word ‘friends’ and finally looked up. She’d been reading about black holes, a shiver running down her spine at the thought of such a cold, endless void. Except that when she tucked her book back under her arm, that shiver didn’t disappear. If anything the feeling increased. The freezing marble floor beneath her feet… the blank faces of people dressed in darkened clothes… it was too much like what Jupiter had been imagining._

_“Mom?” she asked, grabbing hold of her shirt._

_“Let go,” Aleksa snapped in Russian and Jupiter was so startled that she did, jumping slightly. The eyes her mom turned on her were soft though._

_“Walk by yourself,” she whispered, “and don’t look back.”_

 

***

 

Jupiter didn’t want to look back, but starring at the closed door was worse.

 

“Let go,” she hissed and wrenched her arm out of Titus’ grip. He backed off, his hands splayed out in front of him, eyes hollow. As he moved, Titus gentlemanly pulled out a chair for her before collapsing heavily into his own. Jupiter remained rooted where she stood.

 

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

 

Chicanery shook his head at her expression. “Please sit down, Ms. Jupiter.”

 

“ _What’s going on?_ ”

 

None of them answered her. In fact, Jupiter would go so far as to say that none of them looked as if they ever wanted to speak again. The silence was deafening.

 

Titus remained exactly where he’d fallen, down to the last strand of hair and awkwardly torqued arm. He was slouched in the chair, pushing his suit up so that a strip of his stomach was clearly visible. Jupiter had seen Titus in numerous states of undress—from skirts to off-the-shoulder sweaters to no shirt at all—but this seemed more intimate than all of those moments combined. Maybe it was something about his intentions, or lack thereof. Maybe it was the fact that he was staring at Jupiter like a man dying of thirst.

 

Kalique, in contrast, appeared to be her usual, composed self. Almost. Jupiter noted a new tightness around her eyes and her lips were thinned with such violence that they nearly trembled. She stared at Jupiter... looking straight through her.

 

Jupiter turned to the closed door once more. She nearly expected something to be behind her. Or someone.

 

“Ms. Jones. Please,” Chicanery indicated the chair next to Titus, across from Kalique.

 

This time Jupiter sat. Collapsed really. She did something involving her knees giving out and her forearms landing with a hard thump on the mahogany table. That seemed good enough for Chicanery.

 

“Excellent,” he said, opening a slim folder. The pages inside were too white, unruffled. “You look a tad pale. Understandable, of course. Would you care for some water?”

 

Jupiter didn’t know who Chicanery was addressing. Maybe all of them. She spotted a pitcher of water in the middle of the table—nearly five feet away—and reached for it instinctually. She should serve them, right? Jupiter’s arm crossed Titus’ path.

 

“Fuck it,” he snarled and shoved her arm away. It was the second and only time he’d touched her.

 

Titus stood, ignoring Chicanery’s look and stumbled over to a cabinet across the room. There was a mirror hanging above it and the three of them watched Titus’ pale face as it scowled at his shaking hands, jittering over the cabinet’s lock. With a curse he finally succeeded in flinging the doors open, drawing out a label-less bottle and four shot glasses. He slid them one by one across the table as Jupiter did her best to keep them from shattering. Kalique folded her hands primly and glared.

 

“Should you really be drinking?” she asked.

 

“Absolutely. If there was ever a time…” Titus held up the bottle like a game-show model, turning it towards Jupiter. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Nothing beats that amber color, twilight shining through it… it’s a distillation of scotch and Regene-X. None of the same longevity I’m afraid, but very rare. Very _potent_.” He poured out a shot each and practically shoved it in Jupiter’s lap when she didn’t immediately take it.

 

“To mother,” Titus said, raising his glass. The others followed suit with various levels of willingness. “You’d have enjoyed the irony: the creator of immortality dying so young.”

 

Jupiter choked.

 

“Seraphi is _dead_?”

 

The others ignored her. Chicanery slammed his shot back like a pro, looking indifferent to the toast but appreciative of the alcohol itself. Kalique sipped hers delicately… then shut her eyes and poured the rest of it quickly down her throat. Titus chugged his, poured a second, watched it overflow onto the table, sloppily drank that, then poured a third. He finally sat back down and shoved the whole bottle at Jupiter.

 

“Drink,” he demanded.

 

Feeling numb, Jupiter lifted her shot with two hands, fingers on either side (why did it feel so heavy?) and made sure not to spill a drop as she brought it to her lips. It did indeed burn, though she hardly felt it. Jupiter placed the shot glass back on the table with deliberate care.

 

She wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ Instead what came out was, “ _How?_ ”

 

“Car accident,” Chicanery answered, to which Kalique snorted. It sounded more like a wet sob.

 

Re-opening his folder, Chicanery drew out a single sheet from the bulging stack. Jupiter couldn’t read the words from her seat, but the typing was neat, bolded, and reminiscent of a typewriter. He cleared his throat before drawing one pale finger down the list, reading off from the bullet points.

 

“On May 19th, 7:32pm, the company car heading from Abrasax Industries to Seraphi’s penthouse crashed into two other vehicles after running through a four-way stop. The injuries suffered upon impact are thought to be minor. However, a fire quickly started and overcame the company car. Balem Abrasax, thought to have been driving said car, survived with non-fatal and/or minor injuries. Seraphi, thought to have been in the passenger seat, did not make it out.”

 

Chicanery flipped the sheet over and placed his palm down on it firmly. That, apparently, was that.

 

“… _What?_ ” Jupiter said.

 

She looked back at the door, as if she expected Seraphi to come waltzing through it any second now. Or perhaps even for Balem to barge in, his shocked expression dissolved, demanding to know why the _staff_ was sitting at their table.

 

Neither happened of course. Jupiter was left staring at the door until Chicanery sharply rapped his knuckles.

 

“If you please,” his look was unmistakably aimed her way. “I realize that tonight isn’t the time for logistics—”

 

“You bet your scrawny ass it’s not,” Titus muttered.

 

“— _but_ , the basics must be dealt with. Such was Seraphi’s request in her will.”

 

He pulled another sheet from the endless pile, one that looked identical to all the rest, but Jupiter swallowed hard at how important it seemed. Maybe a part of it was the fact that it was so short, the insanity that a life like Seraphi’s could be reduced to a few, insignificant paragraphs. Probably it was more the fact that they were reading her will in the first place…

 

Jupiter felt another rush of _wrongness_ cascading over her and it made her desperately want to reach for the bottle. She kept her hands firmly in her lap though, gripping them tight. At least she understood her purpose here now.

 

She was acting as a witness.

 

“Merely the formalities at this stage,” Chicanery was saying. “Kalique, I’m sure you knew this was a long time coming. Titus? You’re familiar with your mother’s… ah, unique requests?”

 

“ _Late_ mother,” he emphasized, downing another shot. “But yes, she may have mentioned it once or twice. Not that I understood it. Perhaps she was growing senile.”

 

Jupiter stared. That was obviously a joke. Regene-X didn’t just keep you young and fit, it helped with all aspects of health. Decades now and no one who took Regene-X showed any signs of mental decline, not even those who were fighting against their family histories. Regene-X trumped genetics every time.

 

So why did Titus look so serious?

 

“Balem was right,” he said slowly, warming to the words as he produced them. “This is your fault.”

 

Jupiter’s breath caught at the accusation… but Titus turned his eyes on Kalique.

 

The middle child remained stony-faced, still. She paid Titus no more mind than she did Jupiter, or even Chicanery. Whatever Kalique was thinking in that moment, it wasn’t for the likes of them to know.

 

“Please,” Chicanery said. “Tonight is not a night for blame either. I recommend that we announce this for formalities sake—and Ms. Jones’—and then all head home for a decent night’s rest. Any and all details can be hashed out in the coming weeks.”

 

“Yes,” Kalique said faintly.

 

Titus waved a wobbling hand. “Get on with it.”

 

Jupiter just nodded. Something hot and taut settled in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Very well.” Chicanery cleared his throat. “Possession of the company, along with all Seraphi’s assets, will be divided through equitable distribution. As I’m sure comes as no surprise, Balem will receive 45% ownership, as befitting his status as eldest.”

 

Kalique and Titus’ mouths twisted in resignation, an odd quirk the siblings shared. It might not have come as a surprise to them, but it certainly did to Jupiter. Hadn’t she just been thinking tonight that Seraphi would never split the company? All those potential investors turned away… everyone and their mother had assumed that Balem would receive full control, leaving Titus and Kalique to receive the ‘meager’ remains of Seraphi’s billions. Yet here was a stupid piece of paper making an ass of them all. Balem with 45%.

 

“Kalique, the second child, will receive 20%.” Chicanery waited for Kalique to incline her head, though she looked as if she’d swallowed something sour—not even half of Balem’s share. “And there is a special note here: Titus, Seraphi’s youngest, will also receive 20%, in the interest of fairness and, I quote, ‘in acknowledgement of your similarities.’”

 

“Similarities?” Kalique spluttered at the same time Titus’ eyebrows hit his bangs. Jupiter thought she heard, “She _was_ senile,” muttered around the rim of his glass.

 

She was so absorbed in their reactions that it took Jupiter a moment to do the math.

 

“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand. “That’s only 85%. Where’s the rest going? Charity?” The mere idea made her laugh.

 

Chicanery turned to her though, holding up the page as evidence. “Why no, my dear. The final 15% goes to you.”

 

Jupiter stared. Then she swallowed, opened her mouth, heard a squeak emerge, and just as quickly shut it again. When Jupiter caught a faint giggle echoing throughout the room she had to acknowledge that, yes, that was _her_ voice and she clamped her teeth more firmly together.

 

“That isn’t funny,” she bit out.

 

Chicanery merely raised an eyebrow as Kalique said, “Indeed,” her voice as brittle as ice.

 

“No really. What sort of sick joke—”

 

“No joke,” Titus interrupted. He was listing now, titling his newly filled glass Jupiter’s way. “You… fascinated Mother. Though heaven knows why.”

 

Despite his words, Jupiter was struck by how intently Titus stared at her—the curiosity, hunger, _fascination_ in his eyes. She turned away from him in fear and discovered Kalique’s tiny smile that was too perfect to convey anything but hatred. Chicanery was already packing up his things and Jupiter realized, like a punch to the gut, that he was as far from the joking type as could be.

 

This was _real_.

 

It didn’t feel real though. Jupiter watched through a haze as the three of them stood, leaving as quickly as they’d come: Titus stumbling, Chicanery shoving those damn papers back into his case, Kalique refusing to spare her a glance. They brushed past her, one by one.

 

“… but I’m nobody.” Jupiter whispered to the room.

 

Chicanery was the last to leave. He stopped only the briefest moment to say,

 

“Not anymore.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
